Oblivious
by Bardicsidhe
Summary: Post-NoA arc. The characters are all legal by now, twenty-three or thereabouts. Problem is, Yugi and Yami have a crucial difference of opinion, and in order to accommodate both of them, they have to split. Yugi-tachi to the rescue! Musical-chair romance!
1. Prologue of sorts

Title: Oblivious

Author: Scylla the Healer

Rating: R (We're just going to be sure.)

Name versions: American Dub (Joey, Tristan, Duke, etc.)

Warnings: Shonen-ai. I know what pairings are going to happen, but I'm not listing them here. You'll just have to find out. I can list what _won't _be here. No Kaiba/Joey, no Yami/Yugi. Ech. Those two turn me off, big time.

Summary: Post-NoA arc, slightly AU. The characters are all legal by now, twenty-three or thereabouts. Problem is, Yugi and Yami have a crucial difference of opinion, and in order to accommodate both of them, they _have _to split. Yugi organizes an expedition in search of a legendary gem to do the job.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! and all of its bits and pieces are copyrighted by the one and only Kazuki Takahashi.

- ~ -

It all started with the headline in Monday's newspaper. That particular paper wasn't at all special. A sale on rice in the third section. Sombody's house broken into by another victim of a desperate crack addiction. Cars were stolen. Rickety houseboats sank just off the harbor shores. Nothing interesting.

Kaiba flipped the paper over. Out of personal preference, he generally didn't dither with the front page at all. He read the back page first, merely for the pleasure of defeating the paper's entire organizational system. He was a corporate giant, he knew everything that front page could tell him already, anyway. More about this or that politician, he supposed. Some tyrant of industry claiming bankruptcy. Old news…

"DOMINO MAN ORGANIZES EXPEDITION FOR ANCIENT BRAZILIAN GEM"

And under that…

"Artifact valued at over $3.5M, not just stuff of folklore and legends, local historians say..."

The block print was a magnet. It wasn't the main story – that was about the trade of bioengineered chickens. Not even the second one – a new panda born at the local zoo grabbed that spot.

But the unimportant third line made the darkhaired crown prince of gaming capitalism blink. Then frown.

"Duke."

"Would you stop-"

"Duke come here."

Muttering passionately under his breath, "whistle at me, why don't you…not a fecking dog…Duke…my ass…" the other games creator joined his companion at the breakfast table, orange juice in hand.

"Read this." Kaiba handed up the front section of the paper, folded down to expose the third headline for the shocking revelation that it was. 

Devlin smoothed the crisp paper unnecessarily and scanned the sheet as he sipped his juice. He swallowed, and shook his head. "I don't see…"

"Keep reading," Kaiba commanded.

There was another few moments of silence, and then a sharply indrawn breath. Devlin's.

"See?"

The older of the two men sat, looking up, well-pleased with himself as he awaited Devlin's response. Not for the first time, the green-eyed younger man was tempted to aim a punch at that too-pretty chin.

"Looks like Yugi's at it again," He responded, in as level and disinterested a tone as he could muster, and handed back the paper after making the pretense of scanning further through for something of more interest. There was no way he intended to let on about even a pale smudge of surprise.

A pity when relationships crumbled to the point of raw pettiness.

Kaiba huffed noncommittally, shrugged, and slapped the paper open again. Searching for the end of the article…hadn't he read it earlier…on page…a-ha! "Just wait until you hear about the crack troops he's got going with him."

Devlin leaned a hip against Kaiba's chair, hanging over his shoulder in his intensely listening way that used to make the brunette look up and touch his lover to be sure that he still breathed. Kaiba could practically feel the other's longing ache for the brush of his fingertips. It had been a long time, hadn't it? A very long time…

Frowning, he shook the stubborn crease out of the paper and smoothed it on the table.

"I can guess," Devlin hid his disappointment in sarcasm, finishing the dregs of orange juice left in his glass and mouthing the names along with Kaiba as the other boy read them off. He headed back to the kitchen, still following along.

"Participants in the expedition include historian Ryou Bakura, botanist Joseph Wheeler, archaeologist Tristan Taylor, and longtime friend Teá Gardner."

"_Just _Teá? You mean, not Teá Gardner PhD…or something like that?" Devlin ignored the annoying little hitch in his heartbeat and the insignificant roar of blood in his ears when Kaiba said Tristan's name. It meant nothing. It had always meant nothing. The toaster popped. He turned to take care of it, cream cheese spread thickly over the toasted bagel slices simply for the sheer sensual luxury. The knife clattered to the floor and he cursed.

"I don't know," Kaiba replied, unmoved by the display behind him, "It seems not."

"One woman with all those men? What is she, then? The sex bicycle?" Devlin snickered and bent with a grunt to retrieve the lost knife.

"Don't be crude." Kaiba had picked up the paper again, and it twitched in irritation. "They're leaving in two weeks for a two-day flight from Domino City to Panama, and from there to Brazil. I know Yugi's grandfather was almost fanatical about ancient treasures…but isn't all this nonsense for a single stone a bit much?"

Devlin, leaning absently against the counter with a second glass of juice and half a bagel, didn't answer. It didn't really matter, as the question was rhetoric, anyway. Kaiba went on, just as he usually did. He talked to himself much of the time; a habit he'd learned by living with a talking computer. At first, Devlin thought it was cute.

These days, it was just damned annoying.

Could he get away from it? All of it?

"Besides, I know Yugi, and Yugi doesn't have the money to cover a trip like this…"

"I wonder if they could use a hand…"

"Unless his grandfather left him the cash…"

"I'm going with them."

"But that old fart was too loose with his funds to have anything put away…"

"Seto, I'm going with them."

"And whatever they had, anyway, Yugi probably spent on his funeral…"

**"Seto!"******

"…_what_?" Kaiba rounded on his mate at the sudden, unexpected shout, spinning to pin him with the gaze of a blue-eyed cobra. Unimpressed, Devlin tossed his hair – down, at this time of the morning – and fixed his lover with an unflinching green stare. Slender hands balled into fists, and crossed over his chest in a show of base defiance. Kaiba's tyranny was over. Gods watch over poor little Mokuba.

"I said," Devlin repeated, in as even a tone as he could, "that I'm going with them."

"Nonsense," Kaiba grated, waving a hand in curt dismissal to the sudden upsurging dream, "they don't even like you."

"Maybe they would if you weren't such an asshole." Dark, blue-black sheened hair fanned out behind him as Devlin crammed the last bite of bagel into his mouth and turned to sweep out of the room. A firm hand clamped over his wrist, arresting him midstride. He spun to meet a familiar blue gaze, gone so angry and icy that it chilled him to the bone. He shivered.

"_Never _call me that again." Kaiba's voice was low, but disturbingly clear. And dangerous. Green eyes wide, Devlin shook his head in a frantic attempt to mollify his mate. Then, with a growl, Kaiba dragged him into a bruising, possessive kiss. Devlin was _his_. And he didn't like the thought of anyone else touching what was his, regardless of whether he needed it or used it or even _liked _it. "You're not going."

Another agonized twitch of Devlin's head indicated that no, he wasn't going. All of his fire extinguished. Kaiba nodded in satisfaction and released his wrist. He rubbed at the red fingerprints blossoming on his skin, and held his breath.

Kaiba pushed past him, taller, heavier form almost knocking Devlin against the refrigerator in the force of his passing, and disappeared down the hall to the master bedroom to change for work.

Three more seconds passed of almost painfully attentive listening.

Silence.

The withheld breath spilled outward in a gusty sigh of relief, and Devlin sagged back until the cool metal of the refrigerator door pushed comfortingly against his shoulders. He stared sightlessly at the empty doorway where Kaiba had gone, listening for the sound of footsteps, then water running, then the snick of a briefcase slapping shut and more footsteps dissipating down the stairwell. The rumble of a car pulling up – Kaiba's limo. Murmurs of voices just barely within earshot, and the heavy clack of the massive front doors falling shut behind him. The rumble of the limo's motor grew distant; faded to silence.

Devlin slid down the refrigerator door to the floor and buried his head in his arms.


	2. And the actual plot kickstarts

Once again, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!

And I couldn't leave it with all that angst. _ Besides…it's only slightly relevant to the main plot. Hell, so is this chapter.

- ~ -

"God-_damn_…how much more stuff do we _need_?" Joey rubbed at the back of his sweat-plastered blonde head and stared at the accumulated truckloads of equipment. Tristan and Ryou shot him a nasty glare as they struggled together to heave a box of freeze-dried food into the back of truck. A film crew had been nixed at the last minute, or it was likely that two trucks would have become three, or even _five. Tents, food, three ATV's, various picks, shovels, and brushes, flashlights, machetes, rifles and ammunition…it was all there. They had clearance from the government of Japan and permission from Peru and Brazil for a sea-transport to the Peruvian coast. Tristan and Joey would stay with the equipment for the two-week oversea journey, while Yugi, Ryou, and Teá flew in later to join them in Lima. From there it was a straightforward trip through a pass in the Andes to Tarma, and from there, southeast along the great river basin and into the southernmost tip of Brazil and untouched rainforest._

Well, that was the travel plan, anyway.

The box fell into place with a pair of labored grunts and a thud, and Ryou and Tristan fell back against the fender of the truck to rub their sweating foreheads. The first box of food had been easy as pie. It was the sixth box that really took it out of them. Tristan wasn't sure why five people would need all that junk…but he wasn't going to doubt Yugi, and besides, the brunette had a hunch that they'd be needing it, too.

"I don't know why Yugi's got his heart set on this stone," Ryou panted, tugging fretfully at the hem of his shirt to let cooler air underneath, "the legend says it'll work, but what if that's just a lot of lies?"

"Think about what the poor little guy's living with," Joey insisted, hooking an arm over the bed of the truck, "if that were you…oh." He flushed furiously and looked away, realizing what he'd just said. Ryou and Tristan exchanged amused smiles. Joey glared at the pair of them, until Tristan elbowed him in the gut. He would have retaliated, but Teá called Joey's name from the game store entrance, and he was forced to concede defeat. _This time. The other two men waited until he was out of earshot, and cracked up._

After a few minutes of rampant snickering at Joey's expense, Tristan sobered and tipped his head curiously at his ice-blonde companion. "Hey, Ryou?"

Ryou looked up. "Yes, Tristan?"

"Are you coming with us just in case Yugi's stone really _does _work?"

Ryou shook his head, strands of snowy hair shimmying across his shoulders. "I'm coming because I can be of help. And because Yugi asked me to. If it _is _possible, then…" The soulful blue eyes turned down, "I'll…have to think about it."

"Hm. Okay." Tristan wasn't sure he understood. After all, why did someone as gentle as Ryou deserve to be at the hands of a madman's whims? God knew what kind of things the demon living inside of his friend told him. This hesitation could be a suggestion planted in Ryou's mind by that evil thing…

"Tristan…"

"Yeah?"

A slender hand cupped over the curve of one of Tristan's broad shoulders. "I have more control over him than you think." Ryou's gaze rose again, and he squeezed the warm flesh under his hand. "I'm stronger than that. Do give me a little credit, will you? I'm just…not sure I want to give him up, yet." He flushed. And Tristan, with the depth of thought that rarely manifested in public, realized what he meant and blushed just as scarlet. 

"I guess I can understand that," Tristan replied, with a sheepish grin. He jammed his hands into his pockets. They looked at one another, and pretended they hadn't, and turned with a start when Teá announced that lunch was ready. Joey returned with the tonneau covers for both trucks and unrolled them over the top of the equipment. The three men made short work of snapping the covers down, and trooped in silence to join the rest of their friends.

Just at the door, Tristan jerked back, as for a minute he could have sworn he'd heard the familiar roaring thrum of a motorcycle dying down. The expensive sound of a rebuilt Victor, heavy with the steel tubing and frame and utterly unlike the fiberglass buzz of the local Yamahas and Hondas and the putter of scooters. 

Only one person he knew of would have a motor that sounded that sweet. 

It matched his own.

The street outside of the game shop was pastorally quiet, baking slowly in the heat of the day until the air above the pavement rippled. Above the low hum of traffic from the center district, there was only birdsong. A dog barked. A blessed breeze lifted and Tristan scanned the street from one side to the other, following the ribbon of grey at either end until it spun out of sight.

Nothing.

It couldn't have been him. He was across town and a lifetime away, as far as anyone knew. He turned back to follow the others with a philosophical shrug. For all he knew, the guy had sold that bike.

"Hiya, Tristan." Said a voice from the driveway.

Tristan yelped. It was stupid, he knew, and he practically tumbled off the front steps as he spun back around. "What the hell…?"

There sat the Victor, leaning casually on its kickstand in the same glittering metal-flake black paint that it'd always worn. And straddling it just as casually was a familiar lanky man, grown and evened out some since he'd last been a part of the group, but still unmistakable. Right down to the legs that seemed to go on forever and the typical self-assured smirk. Tristan noticed both in that order. When he finally reached the other's face, the corners of Devlin's mouth twitched knowingly. He dismounted and stood, one hand folded jauntily on a slim leatherclad hip. "It's good to see you, too, tiger."

**"Dev!"** Tristan yodeled, and rocketed off the front steps to slam the other man into a fierce, back-pounding hug. "Hey, you guys! Dev's back!"

Devlin grunted in shock, but joined in the exuberant display of greeting with just as much gusto as his friend. Nobody had tackled him like that in years. And it'd been almost that long since someone called him 'Dev.' 

Good old Tristan. Suddenly he didn't give a damn what Kaiba thought.

The others came to the door in response to Tristan's yelling, and tumbled out into the driveway to join the pair in another round of hugs.


End file.
